


I Learned What Home Could Be

by AngelWithAStory



Series: Good Omens [2]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Kinda, Loss of Identity, Masks, One Shot Collection, Recovery, Returning Home, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-25 11:33:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7531117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelWithAStory/pseuds/AngelWithAStory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her eyes focused in on the castle below her. This wasn't the first time she’d sat and watched it. It wasn't going to be the last.<br/>A figure stepped out onto the balcony. The one her brother had leapt off to escape a demon. The one she had leapt off to escape her mistakes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Learned What Home Could Be

**Author's Note:**

> this is dedicated to my intense desire for happy endings. Also I can't write the NPCs to save my life :/
> 
> I'm [queenmoggy](http://queenmoggy.tumblr.com/) on tumblr if you want to say hi <3
> 
> Title taken from [ I Learned—at Least—what Home Could Be ](http://www.poemhunter.com/poems/home/page-1/365863/) by Emily Dickinson

Vex’ahlia perched on a tower rooftop, one hand holding her cloak together to keep the Northern chill at bay. The mask was pushed up onto the crown of her head as she ate the fruit she’d picked from a tree just outside the city. Trinket was tucked away in her locket, safe.

Her eyes focused in on the castle below her. This wasn't the first time she’d sat and watched it. It wasn't going to be the last.

A figure stepped out onto the balcony. The one her brother had leapt off to escape a demon. The one she had leapt off to escape her mistakes.

She watched them for a moment. They carried a small box in their hands, and they placed it carefully on the railing. Then they waited. As if they were expecting somebody.

Vex’ahlia took a last bite of the fruit and threw it as far into the surrounding woods as she could. (It wasn't far). She pulled the mask down and stood up, unafraid of the height, unafraid of the wind that whipped around her, unafraid of the figure below her.

She jumped.

The landing wasn't the best she’d ever done - a little too much momentum on the roll, just a touch too distracted - but she stood tall, unnoticed. She stood behind the figure, who now leaned on the railing, looking out over the city. Their brow was furrowed, their eyes darting. Desperately searching.

Vex’ahlia moved forwards, barely making a sound as she hopped up onto the railing.

“Good morning, Percival.” She said, letting her voice ring out from all directions.

Percy started and swung his head around, only letting the tension fall from him when his gaze landed on Vex’ahlia’s perching form.

“Good Gods, Vex.” Percy hissed, one hand on his chest. Vex’ahlia shifted so her legs hung over the balcony railing, sitting so she faced Percy.

“Sorry, darling.” Vex’ahlia said. “But I thought you knew better than to let your guard down. It’s dangerous times.”

“You're the only one who could sneak up on this castle, and you’re hardly a danger to me.” Percy said, resuming his lean on the railing. One of his hands rested on the box and Vex’ahlia felt a small wave of curiosity run through her.

“You've been snuck up on before, by people much more dangerous than me. I'm just looking out for you, Percival.” Vex’ahlia said, a small, _barely there_ playful tone in her voice.

Percy stepped closer and raised a hand to the mask. His thumb ran along the seam under her chin.

“May I?” He asked, clearing his throat awkwardly. Vex’ahlia smiled under the mask. He was rarely so bold.

“Close your eyes.” She said, waiting until he had done so. The implicit trust he held in her was staggering.

Vex’ahlia pulled the mask up, watching Percy’s face closely to make sure his eyes were still shut. She leaned forwards and kissed him. Her perch put her just a little taller than him.

Percy’s hand ghosted above her hip. Vex’ahlia placed her hand over his and pushed it to her armour, telling without words that it was okay. They were okay. _She_ was okay.

Vex’ahlia let her hand rest against his cheek as she withdrew. The pad of her thumb rubbed along the stubble that had grown there recently.

“You need a shave, Percival.” She teased. He smiled, still keeping his eyes shut.

“I was thinking of trying out a new look, actually. Grog suits a beard, maybe I will as well.” Percy said, not moving away. These moment were so rare, even before-

He looped his arms around Vex’ahlia’s waist and rested his head against her chest.

“Percival de Rolo, changing his iconic image. What had the world come to.” Vex’ahlia said, the teasing tone still there. She moved slightly and he knew that she was putting the mask back on.

“The world is a different place now, maybe it needs a good change.” Percy said, his words almost muffled by the feathered cloak. Vex’ahlia’s head rested on his as her arms wrapped around him. He could feel the metal of the mask against his scalp.

“ _You can open your eyes, Percy._ ” She whispered, her voice still sounding from all directions.

“I miss you, Vex. I really, honestly do.” Percy said, forcing himself to pull away and look the mask in the eye.

He hated how that mask had become his mental image for the woman he-

“I know, darling.” Vex’ahlia said, touching his cheek again. “I miss you too. I miss all of you.”

“Then _stay_.” Percy pleaded, shifting so his hands were on her hips and not holding her in place. Just…holding her. “Just for breakfast, at least.” He added, knowing that he’d made a mistake already.

“Percival-”

“This will be the last time I ask, I promise. But please, just think about it.” Percy should have been ashamed at the begging in his voice, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Not after everything that happened. “We lost Vax, then you ran and we assumed the worst. I found your earring in the forest and- Vex, we _need_ you. Keyleth locked herself in her room for days on end. Grog was drunk for a week solid and only stopped when Pike begged him to. Scanlan thinks it’s his fault and Pike’s going to try and stop the Rakshasa in its own plane of existence once and for all. Gilmore was… Distraught, to say the least.”

“And you?” Vex asked, an odd note in her voice. As if she was forcing herself to remain neutral.

Percy looked up at her. He _wished_ he could look her in the eye, that she could see the pain he was trying to conceal. She always had a knack for looking through his defences.

“I have to keep Whitestone alive; whatever it takes. Cassandra’s terrified after the assassins managed to sneak in, but she’s being brave. The townspeople know there was an attack on the castle and the refugees stay huddled together in the streets.” Percy said. “We need some _hope_. Something that reminds us not everything is gone.”

“There’s still hope, Percival. Are you still searching for the vestiges?” Vex’ahlia asked, placing her hands on Percy’s shoulders and fondly adjusting his coat just a little.

“Just one in the months since you’ve been away. Pike has the Plate of the Dawnmartyr now. We would have _more,_ it’s just- Everything’s just- we’re not really sure where to start anymore.” Percy admitted, his voice stumbling as he tried his hardest to pull the right words into the right order. “And we don't want to leave Whitestone vulnerable while we go look for them.”

Vex’ahlia nodded solemnly. She reached around and grabbed something from the bag that hung around her chest. It was a book. Old. Cracked leather.

“I came across this and I thought it could help with one of them at least.” Vex'ahlia said, holding it out to Percy.

“What is it?” His fingers closed around the book as he took a small step back. There was an inscription on the front cover, but it wasn't something he could make out.

“A recovered journal from one of the crewmembers on board The Shrew. I can't make sense of all of it, but there should be some clues at least so where the Whisper blade is.” Vex'ahlia said, her hands gripping the railing she sat on. She watched as Percy gently flipped through the pages, as delicately as if he was tinkering with intricate pieces.

“Vex, this-” He stumbled over his words for a second before he shut the book and tucked it into his coat pocket. “I have something for you as well.”

Percy walked back to the box that he’d abandoned and brought it to where Vex'ahlia sat. He lifted the lid so she could see inside.

“I originally planned to make this for your brother, but since circumstances have changed, it would be more fitting for you to have this.” Percy admitted, watching Vex'ahlia for any kind of reaction.

She gingerly reached into the box and pulled out a brooch. The silver crow skull caught the light and the smell wrapped around the both of them.

“It’s lovely.” Vex'ahlia said, softly, quietly. Percy slowly shut the box and made to take the brooch.

“May I?” He asked, looking back up at Vex'ahlia.

“Of course.”

Percy took the brooch from her hands and pulled gently at where the cloak fastened. He pinned it together with the fragrant jewellery, smoothing down the feathers when he was done.

“There.” He said, proudly. Vex'ahlia’s hands reached up and clasped the brooch, holding it for a moment. Her body curled inwards for a moment as she gently consoled herself.

“I love it, Percy.” She said, after a quiet moment. “I really, really do.”

“I’m glad.” Percy said, holding his hand out towards her. One of her hands let go of the brooch and held his. It was a simple connection between two grieving people: one for her brother, another for the sister.

“ _Percy? Are you up there?!_ ” A familiar voice called up the stairs to the balcony. _Keyleth_.

“I have to go.” Vex'ahlia said, pulling her hand from Percy’s and pulling herself to her feet on the railing.

“Wait-” Percy wanted so badly to pull her down, for her to stay.

“Percival, if you need me,” Vex'ahlia began, reaching up and plucking a single feather from her cloak. “Burn this. I’ll know where to find you.” She pressed the feather into his hand and closed his fingers around it.

Vex'ahlia turned, ready to jump.

“I love you.” Percy blurted out. Vex'ahlia turned to him. Her muscles were tensed.

Suddenly, she was pushing her mask up a little and her lips were on his. Her hand was on his cheek, holding him close.

“I’m sorry about this, Percy.” Vex'ahlia whispered, barely pulling away. “Don't tell them. Not yet.”

“I won't.” Percy promised.

“Good, now turn around.” Vex'ahlia said, shifting on the railing and pulling her mask down. “Trust me. I'll see you again.”

Percy turned in time to see Keyleth’s form appear at the top of the stairs. Dust suddenly obscured his vision and his head grew light. The ground underneath him suddenly jerked to the side and he was falling.

 _Falling._ The world fading to darkness.

He hoped Vex'ahlia had disappeared safely.

***

Percy woke up and found himself looking into Pike’s eyes. Her white hair was loose around her face and was barely held back from falling into his face.

“He’s awake!” She called out to someone behind her. “He’s okay.”

“Of course I’m okay.” Percy said, sitting up. He realised now that he was lying on the bed in his room and that the rest of Vox Machina were nowhere to be seen. “Pike, what’s going on?”

The door burst open just a bit more before she could speak.

_Cassandra._

Cassandra stood in the doorway, a grin breaking out on her face when she saw her brother conscious.

“Percy.” She said, running to his side. “I was so worried.”

She threw her arms around him, almost knocking him back onto the bed. Percy’s arm wrapped around her instinctively while the other stopped his fall.

“No need to worry, Cassie.” Percy said, quietly reassuring her. “I'm much tougher now than I was as a child.”

“Excuse me for being concerned when I’m told my brother was found unconscious on the balcony upstairs.” Cassandra said, letting go of her brother and sitting on the bed next to him. “After everything that happened, did you expect me to _not_ worry?”

“Fair point.” Percy relented, adjusting his glasses absently. Since she’d released him, Cassandra sat with her hands folded in her lap. Like a lady.

Percy was suddenly struck by just _how much_ she’d been forced to grow up over those five years since their parents died. He knew he had changed a lot, for better or for worse, but this image of a young lady just didn't match his idea of his youngest sister, Cassie. The white streaks in her hair that she tucked up away from her face; the dress that was tucked in at the waist; their mother’s jewels gently tied around her throat and resting just below her breast bone.

Where had this young woman come from?

Someone gently touched his arm and Percy realised he’d been holding his head.

“Are you okay?” Pike asked, gently handing him a glass of water.

“Perfectly fine. Just, a little confused.” Percy admitted. He took a sip of the water, washing away the taste of whatever Vex had thrown on him.

“Percy?” Pike’s voice was small and a little unsure. “Who was up there with you?”

It took every ounce of self-control Percy possessed not to choke on the water.

“I’m not suite sure I know what you mean.” Percy said, frowning at Pike. “Where are the others?” He looked up at the door, thinking he might see one of them walk past.

“Keyleth said she saw someone jump from the railing when she went looking for you. So Grog and Scanlan went with her to search the area. They took some guards with them as well.”

“Percy,” Cassandra said softly, catching his attention. “Do you remember anything? Why did you go up there anyway?”

“I- I heard a noise up there, early this morning.” Percy said. “And when I went to see what it was, I saw a box on the railing. There was a book inside.”

Percy shifted slightly and saw his coat hanging on the back of a chair Pike had sat on. He could see the edge of the cracked leather cover peeking out of the pocket.

“Pike, would you mind reaching into my coat pocket?” Percy asked. Pike did as she was asked, pulling out Vex’ahlia’s gift. She held it out and waited for Percy to take it.

“That was in the box?” Cassandra asked, looking down at the faded inscription curiously.

“Yes.” Percy flipped open the page and began leafing through. “As far as I can tell, it belonged to one of the crewmembers on board The Shrew. It’s a clue to one of the vestiges.”

“And this was just _in_ the box?” Cassandra asked, peering at the pages curiously. She frowned at the different languages and the small sketches of islands or trade routes or supposedly local flora and fauna.

“Just sitting inside the box.” Percy said. He felt bad about the deception, but he also wanted to honour his promise to Vex'ahlia. “I have no idea who it belonged to.” That, at least was true.

A thought suddenly occurred to him and Percy felt a stab of panic in his chest.

_The feather._

It was in his hand when he fell unconscious. Now it was gone. _Fuck_.

“Pike, this may sound odd, but do you know if there was there a feather nearby when Keyleth found me?” Percy asked, hating the inquisitive look on his sister’s face. He hated having this secret that he so desperately wanted to tell. Hated the carefully worded sentences to keep the truth hidden.

“Keyleth mentioned something like that.” Pike admitted, her expression slightly guarded. “She used it to try and scry for the person that attacked you.”

“I wasn't attacked.” Percy said, almost without meaning to.

“You were found unconscious on the _floor_ , Percival!” Cassandra interrupted. “Just because there was no mark, doesn't mean it’s not an attack.”

“Cassandra, believe me, I’m aware of that.” Percy said, his voice strangely flat for that one statement. “But they left a clue to find a powerful artefacts and they didn't kill me even though they had the chance to. I think they were close to revealing themselves but Keyleth looking for me startled them.” He made his voice sound fair and speculative, musing over different possibilities.

“We can't be too careful, Percy.” Pike said softly, resting her hand on his knee. “Not after what happened.”

“Where are they?” Percy asked, looking Pike right in the eye. She must have seen something in his gaze, because her body language changed.

“In the forest, I think. That’s where Keyleth saw them.” Pike said. She suddenly gripped Percy’s arm as he tried to leave the bed. “Percy, you know something. You know something about this person and you’re not telling us.”

“I-” He faltered. There was a shine to Pike’s eyes as she forced him to meet her gaze. There were tears there. He- he couldn't do it anymore. “I know who it is. At least, I haven't seen her face, but I’ve seen her several times and she’s been keeping an eye on us these last few weeks. She’s the one who left the book.”

“Percy, who is it?” Pike pressed, standing up from the bed (not that it made much difference to her height).

“It’s Vex.” Percy said, feeling a subtle relief at finally saying those words. “She’s alive.”

***

“We all ready?” Keyleth asked, touching the earring delicately. She clutched the staff in her hand with white knuckles and forced herself to breathe.

The sounds of Grog’s breathing was a small comfort, and she could _just_ see Scanlan hiding behind a tree. She could feel the feather in her pocket like a physical weight.

Something about it felt... _familiar_ in the strangest way and it had felt warm in her hand as she scryed. She couldn't get an exact location - something had blocked the pinpoint accuracy - but it sure as hell narrowed it down.

“ _I see ‘em_.” Scanlan’s voice whispered in her ear. She twisted her head just a little bit more and saw a figure, black against the trees.

“Get ready to move.” Keyleth said, drawing back. “Grog, remember the plan. Capture, not kill. Maybe we can get some information out of them.”

“ _Obviously_.” Grog said in her ear.

“Okay….” Keyleth took a breath and focused. “Now!”

Grog burst out of the trees, charging directly towards the figure. Keyleth moved around the tree until she had a clear line of sight, casting a spell as soon as she could.

Tendrils burst out of the ground and tried to wrap around the figure. They dodged out of the way.

She heard Scanlan’s voice spout some incantation and saw the figure freeze. It didn't last for long.

Keyleth was close now. She forced herself to change into her minx form and lunged at the figure. Her claws raked down the figure’s arms, drawing first blood. Her teeth bit into their leg, crunching down and tearing away a chunk of flesh that fell to the ground with a sick _thud_.

Scanlan’s voice said another string of words that sounded vaguely like a song and floated amongst the trees. A crack of lightning exploded from his body and hit the figure square in the chest.

Strangely, they did not scream.

The figure scrambled away, not fighting back, only fleeing.

They stumbled into something solid and felt strong arms begin to crush them. Grog lifted the figure off the ground. His arms tightened and a _snap_ echoed through the trees.

“I got ‘em!” He shouted, continually shifting his weight to keep the person from managing to escape. Their arms were pinned to their sides and their back was held against Grog’s front; trapped.

Keyleth shifted back into her half-Elven form and stalked over, forcing herself to keep her head high. The closer she was, the more clearly she could see them.

She saw the mask first, frowning at its bird-like design. Then she saw the cloak of feathers, some of them sticking at odd angles due to Grog’s hold. Then she noticed the necklace.

Something in her flared white-hot.

“Where did you get this?” Keyleth demanded, stalking up to the person and gripping the necklace. She pulled it so her face was close to the mask. (She hoped it was intimidating).

The figure didn't respond.

“It belonged to Vex’ahlia in Vox Machina. _Where did you get this?_ ” She repeated, letting the anger flow through her words.

“Here’s my idea,” Scanlan began, standing next to Keyleth and looking at the figure held in Grog’s grasp, “I say we take their mask, bring them back to Whitestone and keep them in the dungeon until they start talking.”

“Any objections?” Keyleth asked, looking at Grog specifically.

“Nope.” Grog said, shifting the person just a little bit higher in his arms to stop them from falling from his grip.

“Good. Keyleth, do the honours please.” Scanlan said, gesturing to the person.

Keyleth stepped forwards, letting the necklace hit their breastplate again. She held the staff out for Scanlan to take and reached up with both hands.

The mask was cold. As soon as her fingers touched the metal, the figure began to thrash, desperately trying to break Grog’s grip. Keyleth pulled, the mask slipping away with surprising ease.

Dark hair covered the person’s face as they turned their head away in a last-ditch attempt to hide their identity. Their legs still kicked out, trying to keep the others at bay.

Slowly, Keyleth’s hand reached out, brushing the hair behind their ear. The mask slipped from her fingers, hitting the ground with a dull thud.

“No…” She snatched her hand, stepping back. She almost tripped over Scanlan, who had a hand raised threateningly towards the person.

“It’s a demon. It’s not her.” Scanlan spat, small sparks beginning to circle around his fingers.

“Who?” Grog was struggling to keep the person in place now.

“ _Vex_.” Keyleth whispered, her hands hovering over her mouth.

At the name, Grog’s arms relaxed. Not by much. But enough.

Vex thrashed violently, forcing Grog’s arms away enough to fall to the ground. She gripped the mask, slipping it back over her head as she felt a familiar weight unfurl from her back.

Thick, black wings fanned out either side of her, both protective and threatening.

“ _Don't look for me._ ” She said, suddenly bolting to the side and letting the wind carry her up and out the trees. Her voice echoed around like a _presence_ rather than sound.

The three of them didn't move.

What just happened? What do they do now? That- that wasn't _really_ -

“ _Fuck._ ” Grog said, after an age of silence.  “We should have brought the others with us.”

***

_Running. Flying. Keep moving. Just keep moving._

_Deeper._

_Get deeper into the forest._

_Hide._

They knew her face. They had seen her without the mask. They knew that she was alive. That she was in Whitestone. That she was watching over them.

Her breath wouldn’t come.

The wound on her chest grew worse. Hurt more. Blood dripped onto the ground. Her blood. _Oh gods._

The trees drew closer. Blocked her way. Corralled her. She followed the path. Blood dripped from her fingers. The ache of lightning grew worse.

A figure paused in the trees.

She ran.

A root wrapped around her boot. She stumbled. Then she fell.

But she didn’t hit the ground.

The figure walked closer. Her vision blurred. Grew dark at the edges.

Faded into black.

***

“Are you sure that’s what she said?” Percy asked, pacing about the room.

“She said ‘ _don't look for me_ ’ then _flew_ off into the sunset.” Scanlan said. His foot tapped nervously on the floor as he watched Percy pace.

They were in his Father’s study. Or what remained of it after the years of being under the Briarwood’s control and disuse.

The sturdy desk and the low bookshelves were familiar. The fireplace and the ornate drinks cabinet were familiar.

The scared and confused looks on his friends faces weren't.

“Percy, what the hell’s going on?” Keyleth demanded, standing suddenly from her chair. She stood in Percy’s path, halting his pacing. “You know something that you're not telling us. What happened to her? What’s with that creepy mask? Why was she hiding?”

“I don't know, Keyleth.” Percy snapped, pinching the bridge of his nose and scrunching up his face. “I honestly don't.” His voice was _tired_ and quiet; so unlike Percival, and much more like _Percy_. The one after Orthax. The one who wanted nothing more than to see his town thrive and see his sister and family grow old happily.

“But you know something, don't you?” Scanlan said. He was sat in a chair by the fire and his hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail. Out of everyone, he looked the most put-together.

“I do.” Percy admitted, tiredly. The others were quiet as they waited for him to form the right words. “A few weeks ago, I thought I saw something disappear down one of the hallways and, obviously, I pursued it. I didn't know who it was at first; I only saw the armour and the hair, I thought- I thought it was Vax at first, as impossible as that could be. Then they spoke, and I recognised her voice.”

“Well, what did she say?” Grog asked, twisting his warhammer in his hands nervously. It wasn't a threat, only a familiar comfort that the rest of them could only _just_ understand. Everyone needed a security blanket, of sorts. If Grog’s could kill someone at a moment’s notice, then so be it.

“That she had work to do. That there were duties she needed to fulfill. I have no clue what they could be, but she left not long after that.” Percy admitted. He omitted the pleas. Omitted how he begged her to stay. How powerless he felt as she disappeared over the balcony. Of her sweet words and how they felt so poignant.

“Did you see her face?” Scanlan asked, looking at Percy curiously. Percy wondered if Scanlan could tell that he was keeping a few details to himself. He probably could. ‘ _Don't try to BS a BS-er_ ’ and all that.

“Briefly.” Percy admitted. That short glimpse of the face that haunted his dreams and distracted him in his waking hours. He felt a small ache in his chest and forced it down.

Suddenly there was a sharp pain on the right side of his face and it Percy a second to register that he’d been slapped. It took another few seconds to register that _Keyleth_ had slapped him.

“You knew this whole time and you didn't tell us!” She shouted. Her anger bubbled along her surface. He could see the thunder in her eyes and suddenly felt _afraid_.

“Keyleth-”

“We thought she was _dead,_ Percy! We thought that Vax and Vex were _dead!_ And you knew she was alive this _whole_ time! This is typical, you know. You never fill us in on what’s going on unless you _need_ to and obviously-”

Her rant was cut short by Percy pulling her towards him and wrapping his arms around her shoulders. Keyleth’s hands gripped his coat hard enough to tear it and for all of three second the room was deathly quiet. Then Keyleth cried.

Her whole body shook as the grief wracked her system. _Months_ of mourning manifesting all at once. All that dread and anger and hatred and sorrow finally spilling out down Percy’s lapels.

Percy’s hands slowly rubbed Keyleth’s back. The same motions that his mother performed after a nightmare. The same motions Keyleth performed when Percy had a panic attack. The universe connection of comfort.

(Oh how it felt so alien.)

“So what do we do now?” Pike asked, waiting until Keyleth’s small sobs had faded to sniffles.

“Keyleth, do you still have that feather?” Percy asked. Keyleth pulled away from him and dug into her pocket for a second, pulling out the same black feather she used to scry. Percy gently took it from her and tucked it into his palm.

“How’s that gonna help?” Grog said, shifting the hammer until its head lay against the floor. Percy opened his mouth to answer but the door creaked open before he could.

Every head turned towards the doorway. Lady Kima was dressed in her armour, her weapon in her hand. Ready for a battle, as always.

“Is this a bad time?” Kima asked, looking specifically at Keyleth’s tear-stained face and the feeling the general sombre mood of the room.

“A bit. What is it, Lady Kima?” Percy asked, adjusting his glasses just the slightest bit.

Kima took a few steps into the room and shut the door behind her. Vox Machina suddenly became a bit alert, sensing something important was about to be said.

“There have been some whispers in the town.” Kima admitted, lowering her voice a little. The others gathered in just a little closer. Pike handed Keyleth a small handkerchief and patted her arm as Kima talked. “A few people say they’ve seen things on the roofs at night. And that sometimes someone will turn up in front of a guard’s post with a weird brand on their forehead. They think it’s some kind of vigilante.”

“Do you know what the brand looks like?” Percy asked, already knowing the answer but still wanting to hear it.

“Kind of- I guess a bit like a feather.” Kima said, nervously shifting her weapon to the other hand. “Allie’s been trying to see if there’s any kind of arcanic _thing_ about it but so far nothing.”

“The people that turn up at the guard’s posts,” Pike said, picking up on that train of thought, “do they have anything in common?”

“The guards in this place don't tell me anything.” Kima said, a disgruntled tone in her voice. “But some of the townspeople are saying petty crooks. A few thieves, a few people whose partners have a questionable bruise or two. Apparently not the nicest of people.”

“Thank you, for keeping us informed, Kima.” Percy said, forcing himself to use his Lord voice. In reality, his heart was thundering in his chest.

 _Vex_.

The feather, targeting criminals, only appearing in the dark…

It had to be her.

She was watching over the city.

Percy suddenly wanted nothing more than to see her again.

“I just thought with what happened a little while ago, that you guys would want a heads up.” Kima said. She straightened her back and gave them all a respectful nod. “I’ll let you guys get back to whatever you were doing.”

She left them. Silence reigned for all of five seconds.

“I’m going to go find her.” Scanlan said, already standing up and walking towards the door.

“Me too.” Pike walked to joined Scanlan, but Percy stood in front of the door.

“You don’t have to do that.” He said. Percy held up the feather so they could see it. “Vex left me this feather. She told me to burn it if we needed her and then she could find us.”

“I say we burn it.” Grog said, talking as if that was the only logical course of action.

“But she might not come to us now that we know she’s alive.” Pike pointed out.

Keyleth gaze was locked onto the feather. Suddenly she reached out towards it, but not touching. Flames licked her hands but she didn’t grab for the feather. Not yet.

“What does everyone say? Either we burn it and let Vex think we’re in trouble and that we need her, or we don’t burn it and try to find her.” Keyleth said, her gaze going between the other members of Vox Machina.

“Burn it.” Grog said, casting his vote.

“I’m with Grog.” Scanlan said. “It’ll be easier if she comes to us than we try and search for her.”

“I still think that she won’t come if we burn it now.” Pike said, watching Keyleth’s inflamed hand. “I vote we don’t burn it. At least not yet.”

“I don’t think we should burn it either.” Keyleth said, letting her own opinion be known. “If Vex gave this to Percy as a last resort, then we shouldn’t waste it.”

Percy felt eyes on him and suddenly could speak.

“Percy, you’re the deciding vote.” Keyleth said, her hand still hovering over the feather. “How are we going to do this?”

***

Vex’ahlia woke up to warmth and the feeling of someone’s hands hovering above her body.

Every survival instinct in her kicked into action and she leapt to her feet, knocking the person back and drawing a dagger to aim. She got as far as rising from the bed (cot? Vaguely horizontal surface she was lying on?) before her head grew light and she felt warm arms close around her, keeping her upright.

“It’s alright, Vex’ahlia.”

She knew that voice. She trusted that voice. Vax’ildan knew and trusted that voice as well.

Vex’ahlia let the arms lay her back on the bed, pulling a discarded blanket back on top of her. She looked up at Gilmore, wondering if this was some cruel twist of fate. Being rescued by one of her brother’s past lovers (she assumed - Vax’ildan never really told her the full story of what happened) while trying to flee her friends.

“What sort of fight did you get yourself into?” Gilmore asked, resuming the spell he was probably casting on her to heal the wounds.

“It wasn’t a fight. I was running away.” Vex’ahlia said, her throat raw and aching as she spoke.

“Does this have something to do with the mask?” Gilmore asked, his eyes sparking with arcana. Vex’ahlia didn’t say anything. Gilmore nodded, as if in understanding.

There was a silence as Gilmore repaired Vex’ahlia and as she took in her saviour. He didn’t look as...glorious as she remembered. His hair was still in its ponytail, but messier than usual. His nails were chipped and bitten down. His eyes weren’t as bright and had bags underneath them. His robes were still grand but wrinkled and slightly unkempt and buttoned up higher than it was. His jewellry had been discarded.

It was strangely comforting to know that she wasn’t the only person who’d become a façade in recent months.

“It’s good to know that you’re not dead.” Gilmore said suddenly. “I was afraid that the world had lost it’s best Ranger.” A ghost of a smile played across his face but Vex’ahlia wasn’t convinced.

“I’m glad the assassins didn’t get to you. The world wouldn’t be as glorious without you in it.” Vex’ahlia said, trying for earnest. Gilmore’s face softened as the arcane energy flickered out.

A weight lifted from Vex’ahlia’s chest and she took a deep breath out of instinct. Despite the warmth in the air, the breath in Vex’ahlia’s lungs felt cold and refreshing. All the pain in her chest left her with her exhale and she was left feeling somehow more _whole_ than she’d felt in a long time.

Gilmore’s arms wrapped around her and gently sat her up in the cot. As soon as she moved, her muscles all seemed to ache at once. A long hiss escaped her and she felt a sympathetic pat on her back.

“ _Easy_. You broke a rib and magic can take a little time to fully work.” Gilmore said, handing her a cup of some foul-smelling liquid. “Now, drink up. This will help with the bruising.”

A faint trail of lilac steam rose from the cup and curled about in the air. It tasted as bad as it smelt, but Vex’ahlia downed it anyway.  She could feel it sit in her stomach like lead. Part of her wanted to ask what was in the drink, but the rest of her didn't want to know. She looked back at Gilmore and saw him holding out a plate of food.

“I’m not hungry.” Vex’ahlia said, holding onto the mug with both hands.

“When was the last time you ate?” Gilmore asked. Vex’ahlia wasn’t sure she liked seeing Gilmore doting on her, or the worried frown lines that marred his features. _Gods_ , she wanted her mask back. And for her ribs to not be on fire every time she sucked in a breath.

“I’m not sure.” Vex’ahlia said, staring down at the last few dregs of whatever Gilmore had given her. 

“Slept?”

Vex’ahlia shrugged.

Gilmore’s fingers wrapped around the cup and gently pried it from her hands. She felt the cot shift as Gilmore sat beside her knees. His hands took hers but still, Vex’ahlia didn’t meet his eye.

“What happened to you, Vex’ahlia?”

She couldn’t stand the tone in his voice. The pity there. The genuine worry. It was still a foreign thing to have someone who wasn’t her blood to want her to be okay. Even after all the time with Vox Machina, Vex’ahlia couldn’t get used to it. Maybe having her brother there created a mental buffer.

But Vax’ildan wasn’t there anymore.

Vex’ahlia had no one. And the idea that there were people who cared for her wasn’t one she could bare.

“The Raven Queen needed a Champion. So I took my brother’s place.” Vex’ahlia said. Her voice echoed in the quiet house.

“Where did you go?” Gilmore asked. One of his hands went to Vex’ahlia’s cheek, providing comfort and nothing else. “When you left, where did you go?”

“I went to Emon, at first.” Vex’ahlia said. “There’s barely anything there anymore, but I took a few last things from the Keep. Then I went to Vasselheim. To _Her_ temple. Then I came back here, and I watched over the city.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I guess I was just drawn here.” Vex’ahlia said, shrugging. It was the most alien movement but the most like her, all at once. “I’m sorry, Shaun. You should never have found me.”

“You might have died if I hadn’t.” Gilmore said.

“Did you know it was me when you helped me?” Vex’ahlia said.

“No. I saw someone running through the forest in a mask. Honestly, I thought you might be a failed assassin, at first. But then you stumbled, and I heard you say something. You said your brother’s name. So I brought you back here and healed you as best I could.” Gilmore said, his voice nothing but honesty and grief.

“What were you doing in the forest?”

“Looking for anything I could use for my potions. A bird landed on a branch in front of me and it kept following me. It looked like it was trying to _lead_ me somewhere, but then I saw you.” Gilmore said. He turned sombre as he spoke again. “Vex’ahlia, please tell me one thing.”

Vex’ahlia didn’t say anything, inviting Gilmore to speak.

“Why are you trying to look like him?”

“I’m not.” Was Vex’ahlia’s immediate answer. “That’s why I don’t take off the mask, Gilmore. My brother was all I had left. He was my constant, and now he’s gone and I have his face.”

Vex’ahlia took a deep breath and finally looked up. She saw Gilmore’s almost-flinch and saw the understanding that took over him. With her hair loose around her shoulders and the daggers that she carried, Vex’ahlia knew that the lines that kept her and her twin separate began to blur.

“I want to honour Vax, and I can’t do that if everyone only ever sees him when he looks at me.” Vex’ahlia said, looking back down at her hands. Her skin was so much paler than his. Her fingers much thinner and more calloused from the years of her bowstring than his. Her hands were much less scarred than his.

“Vex’ahlia,” Gilmore gently tilted her chin up so their eyes met, “we all thought you were dead like your brother. We’ve grieved and we’re trying to move on. Having you around would only help. Remind us that this tragedy comes with a grain of hope.”

“They know that I’m alive.” Vex’ahlia said. “They caught me and took my mask off. They- they did this to me, actually.”

“Well, then maybe you should go and show them that you’re not an enemy.” Gilmore said. “Go back to your family, Vex. They need you. And I think you need them. The _world_ needs Vox Machina.”

“It won’t be the same without Vax.” Vex’ahlia said.

“No, it’s won’t be.” Gilmore agreed. “Vex’ahlia, your brother would want your life to go on. Don’t let him down.”

His hand shifted to the back of her head and he pulled her into a hug. Vex’ahlia held onto Gilmore. She was never as close to him as her brother was, but she cared for him all the same.

A few dark nights she had sat and watched his house, just watching over him. Making sure he was okay. The best of those nights was when Vex’ahlia had seen him walking with Allura, just talking. She’d seen them meet Kima somewhere along the street. Allura had tucked her hand into Kima’s and they bid Gilmore goodnight. She remembered Gilmore’s smile as he watched them go.

Gilmore’s hands were warm and Vex’ahlia couldn’t remember the last time someone had just _held_ her. Who had held her last? Her brother? Percy?

Time had flowed into one continuous moment and left her stagnant.

“Gilmore?” Vex’ahlia said, her voice as vulnerable as she felt.

“Yes, Vex’ahlia?”

“Can you help me with my hair?”

His smile was the brightest Vex’ahlia had ever seen.

“I would like nothing more, dear Vex’ahlia.”

***

A bird landed on the window sill.

Its head tilted slightly to the side as it watched figures move about inside the room. It tapped on the window. Three sharp taps.

A red haired woman approached the window and the bird tapped on the window again. Three sharp taps.

The woman opened the window and gently leaned out towards the bird. She extended her hand towards it. The bird jumped onto her wrist. It held on gently, trying hard not to scratch the woman.

“Hello little guy.” The woman said gently, bringing the bird inside the window. Her other hand cupped the air behind the bird, shielding it.

The bird launched off the woman’s wrist. It flew towards a huge man, landing deftly on his shoulder. It gently pecked the man’s ear. Three sharp taps.

The man recoiled instantly, shouting out and throwing the bird off his shoulder into the air. He swatted the bird, but the bird uncannily dodged his large hand. The bird landed on the desk in the room, looking at a white-haired man who sat at it. Gently, the bird pecked at the feather he was slowly turning in his hands.

The bird looked and saw five eyes looking back. It jumped off the desk and flew towards the door, deftly landing on the handle. Loudly, it pecked at the door. Three sharp taps.

“I think-” A small, white haired woman said. “I think it wants us to follow it.” She sounded hesitant. Unsure. Suspicious.

The bird tapped on the door again, more urgent this time. Three sharp taps.

The red haired woman stepped up to the door and extended her arm again. The bird moved onto her wrist, it’s big dark eyes darting from person to person.

“Should we?” The woman said, turning to the others.

The white haired woman walked over and copied the other woman’s movement, extending her arm towards the bird. Instead of her wrist, the bird landed on her shoulder, gently nuzzling her plaited hair. The woman laughed and the bird stopped.

A brown haired man was watching the bird suspiciously. The bird flew over to him, landing on a chair so they were roughly eye-level. They watched each other: the man with distrust and the bird…. The bird was harder to read.

A white streak suddenly ran down the chair.

The white haired man started complaining loudly, standing up from his chair, while the red haired woman tried to console him. The huge man started laughing and the white haired woman hid her mouth to conceal the laughter.

The brown haired man just studied the bird for a few more seconds before his face broke out into a smile.

“Alright, I’m sold. Let’s follow the bird.” He said, looking up at the others. The red haired woman opened the door, having given up on consoling the white haired man.

The bird suddenly thrust up into the air and disappeared down the hallway.

They followed. Some more reluctant than others.

They followed the bird through the corridors, running to keep up. The huge man had picked up the brown haired one and the white haired woman, letting them keep up with the others. They followed as the bird found a staircase and perched on a step until they were close enough They followed the bird up the familiar staircase.

The bird flew out and landed on the balcony railing.

Landed beside a person.  

The person gently reached out and stroked the bird’s head with one finger. They said a few gentle words in the language of her father.  

The figure turned around and faced the group as they reached the top of the stairs. They reached up gently, brushing a few stray hairs back into their plait, and untied the mask on their face.

The figure gently dropped the mask onto the floor beside their feet, looking at the group with tears in their eyes. The Raven Queen’s Omen.  

“ _Hi_ ,” The Omen said, her voice thick.

The women reacted first, both surging forwards. The Omen met the halfway and the three collided in a fierce embrace. The red haired woman’s tears fell on the Omen’s armour and the white haired woman grasped the other two around the waist like she couldn’t let go.

The brown haired man reacted next, running and practically leaping into the embrace. He was followed by the huge man, whose arms surrounded all of them. They all held each other for an immeasurable moment. Tears were shed without comment or reservation.

The Omen looked up and saw the white haired man. He stood away from the group, watching the scene. The others seemed to notice this and the group drifted apart, letting the Omen walk towards him.

“Percival,” The Omen said, her voice soft as the feathers she adorned.

“Vex’ahlia.” The white haired man said, his voice just as soft. “I assume this means you plan on staying for a while?” He said, gesturing in a way meant to encompass everything about her. His hands shook.

“Someone has to keep track of all your gold.” The Omen said, a small, playful edge to her tongue. “And, I believe we still have a few more dragons that need slaying.”

“Well, now that you’re back here that should be much easier.” The white haired man said. His voice turned sincere and his expression softened. “Welcome home, Vex.”

“I’m glad to have a home again.” The Omen said. Her hand twitched forwards and the white haired man noticed. He reached out and took her hand in his. A seemingly innocent gesture to the untrained eye.

“You always had a home with us.” The white haired man said, a sentiment that only the Omen knew.

“I know.” The Omen said. The white haired man smiled sweetly and reached up to adjust the plait that hung over her shoulder.

“Personally, I think your hair looks better like this.” He said. The Omen smiled as she decoded the hidden message in his words.

“Well, personally, you still need to shave.” The Omen said, smiling as the white haired man laughed. “I mean it, Percival. Don’t expect me to kiss you at the risk of a rash.”

“I suppose a certain sacrifice could be made.” The white haired man said, the residue of a laugh in his voice and his smile.

“That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.” The Omen said, reaching up and grabbing the lapel of his jacket. They met in the middle and kissed, disregarding the four pairs of eyes on them.

The bird looked over at the group and _caw-_ ed. It waited until the red haired woman was watching before it leapt into the air and flew towards the roof.

From the roof, the Raven watched. It watched the group’s reaction to the kiss. The other hugs that were shared, more intimate than before. The kind words exchanged and the last dregs of grief that were finally let free.

The Raven watched as the Omen found her home again, and wished his sister the best.

**Author's Note:**

> I know this probably isn't what people expected/wanted for a sequel but honestly, I didn't want to bring Vax back from the dead. I couldn't think of a plausible way considering the circumstance and since the timeline in the first part (while vague) is over the course of a few weeks because Vex goes from Whitestone to Emon then to Vasselheim on _foot_ and by the time she returns, Vax is still dead. 
> 
> So instead, I wrote a story of recovery.


End file.
